


All Along the Watchtower

by hoodedjustice



Category: Watchmen - All Media Types
Genre: Ambition, F/M, Grudges, M/M, Mafia AU, Mob AU, Power Dynamics, Unrequited Love, awkward one-sided stuff, gangster au, there is death but of characters who already die in canon so
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-04-13
Updated: 2017-04-13
Packaged: 2018-10-18 13:11:27
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 9
Words: 6,914
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10617588
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hoodedjustice/pseuds/hoodedjustice
Summary: Everything from RETIRED NY COP MURDERED IN APARTMENT to FORMER UNDERCOVER MAFIA AGENT KILLED covered the front pages, each and every headline accompanied with a complimentary photo of the crime scene: shattered penthouse window glass littering the messy floor of a nice apartment, topped off with the untidy scrawl of graffiti on the wall.“SNITCH,” the graffiti read, in large and shaky letters.((or the one where, together, the Watchmen run Manhattan– until the in fighting begins to tear them apart.))





	1. A Cop's Funeral

**Author's Note:**

> hey what's up guys
> 
> this au has been cooking on the back burner forEVER but! i'm almost done with a total of like, 2 scenes left so I figured I'd post this one in chapters.
> 
> I am my only editor and I'm a poor one at that so keep that in mind
> 
> this should be updated pretty steadily since the majority is already written, so uh, enjoy?? drop a comment maybe?? yeah okay bye

“Did you see pictures of the crime scene?”

Adrian pursed his lips and Jon merely replied, “How could we not? The photos were all over the newspapers.” It was true. The story spilled across headlines like blood, staining media all over; it was perhaps the most highly publicized crime in the last five months.

Everything from _RETIRED NY COP MURDERED IN APARTMENT_ to _FORMER UNDERCOVER MAFIA AGENT KILLED_ covered the front pages, each and every headline accompanied with a complimentary photo of the crime scene: shattered penthouse window glass littering the messy floor of a nice apartment, topped off with the untidy scrawl of graffiti on the wall.

“SNITCH,” the graffiti read, in large and shaky letters.

Rorschach snickered, sticking a cigarette between his lips and eyeing Adrian’s fur collar coat. Feeling churlish, he quipped, “A little dressy for a funeral, don’t you think?”

“We’re here to make a statement,” Adrian answered easily, wrinkling his nose at the cigarette and occupying himself with tidying his blond hair. He straightened up, haughty expression retaking his face. “Attending this funeral is about saying ‘We killed Edward Blake. There isn’t a damn thing the New York law enforcement can do about it.’”

“Be quiet,” Jon interjected. He looked fairly irritated, and Rorschach imagined he would too if he had other pressing matters bothering him while here at this funeral. Fortunately for Rorschach, his job consisted pretty much entirely of following Jon and Adrian around and doing what they said.

“Subtlety is a virtue, Adrian,” Jon continued, “And don’t light your cigarette, Rorschach. We’re at a fucking funeral.”

Rorschach glanced between the cigarette, and Jon, like he was considering arguing. Adrian scoffed. The three of them slowly but surely closed the distance between themselves and the grave where Edward Blake was receiving a cop’s burial. Blue uniforms lined the ranks of mourners, and the unruly trio was gifted a good number of murderous looks.

Business as usual.

Staring down into the grave, as the casket lowered into the ground in front of a high quality, polished headstone, it was easy for each of them to be drawn down memory lane.

_“What do we do with him, boss?”_

_Jon glanced up from his desk to see his employees dragging in a teenager, some kid with unruly hair and a vicious sneer that was a lot braver than the look in the kid’s eyes. He was struggling in the grip of the two men, until one of them whipped out a sharp knife._

_The gleam in the kids eyes matched that of the knife, and for a moment Jon felt vaguely impressed by the wild grin on the kid’s face._

_“What’s your name?” Jon asked, addressing the teenager directly._

_“Eddie Blake,” the kid returned in what was almost a laugh. Eddie sounded psychotic._

_“Well, Eddie,” Jon said as he straightened out his suit jacket sleeves and stood, “I’ll give you a choice. You can pay me back for the damages you’ve caused my club one of two ways: One, we can let one of my associates here decide how many of your fingers is equal to the damages. Two, you can stay here as a busboy during business hours and work it off.”_

_Eddie laughed._

_“Second one I guess,” he answered, and he couldn’t stop laughing, like it was all one big joke._

Drawn back into the present, Jon’s expression soured. Eddie had been a promising young man, back then. He’d worked for Jon in earnest for about six months and consequently Jon had developed somewhat of a soft spot for the trouble teen. 

Years later Eddie Blake - now Edward - returned to Jon, haggard, exhausted, and begging for work. Sentimentality blinded Jon and he found work for Edward to do; the man had been so useful that he’d earned an indisputable and unofficial position as Jon’s infamous righthand man, named the Comedian by the more theatric members of their underworld society. 

This had been a mistake. Jon’s past fondness and lack of investigation into Edward’s claims had left Jon with a mole in his midst for at least four years. Needless to say, Jon had been pleased when the opportunity came along to take Blake out for good, even if it was years after the man’s infiltration and betrayal.

Adrian himself had come along towards the end of Edward’s run with Jon’s crew. Unlike Edward, he’d come to them with an impressive resume of money, stock options, information on opposing drug networks throughout their city. Adrian had brought the competition to Jon on a silver platter and it had earned him a one-way ticket to the top.

That said, it was only natural that Adrian and Edward didn’t quite get along. Adrian had been gunning for Edward’s position from the start and everyone knew it. Adrian’s ascent among the organization, spectacular as ever, threatened Edward and built up a thick wall of tension between them.

_“When are we gonna fight it out, Veidt?”_

_Adrian snorted, continued to pile up stacks of laundered money without so much as glancing up. He was forward with Blake in a way that he was with no one else. Adrian preferred to act with slyness and subtlety unmatched by anyone in their crew; he was a master manipulator when he wanted to be._

_Not with Edward, never with Edward._

_They both knew that Blake would never fall for it and that Adrian didn’t consider the endeavor worth the try._

_“I’ve run about a thousand scenarios in my head, Blake,” Adrian responded curtly. “It always ends the same: stalemate. A physical fight isn’t worth it.”_

_“Chicken,” Edward chuckled as he stuck a cigar in his mouth. “You just don’t wanna go at it with me.”_

_“On the contrary,” Adrian said with a cool smile, finally meeting Blake’s eyes. “I think a round with you would be…” He cocked his head, lips quirking around the word “…stimulating.” He knew it made the other man uncomfortable. That was his aim._

_“Fag,” Blake said sharply, meanly_

_Adrian only shrugged. “I stand by what I say, Mr. Blake. Our final confrontation won’t be about a fist fight. When it comes down to it…” Adrian grinned. “Well. Only one of us really has Jon’s best interests at heart, isn’t that right?”_

_To say Edward was alarmed by the conversation was an understatement. Those were the last words they exchanged before the man was outed as a mole, and more importantly, Adrian took his rightful position by John’s side as second in command._

Edward Blake had been a formidable man, and Adrian was pleased that he was dead.

Rorschach , unlike Adrian and Jon, hadn’t personally interacted with Blake during his time working for Jon. No, Rorschach had become a lackey of Jon’s organization well after Blake’s betrayal, brought in on the recommendation of Dan.

Rorschach’s only interactions with Blake had been limited to the events leading up to his death. In retrospect, Rorschach thought, Blake had been a good fighter and fit for his age; the man had even managed to crack one of Rorschach’s ribs. Admirable.

It had been for naught. In the end Rorschach had bettered the old man and retired cop, and now here they were at the man’s funeral. 

Above them, the clouds crowded together, a harsh gray as rain began to beat down against their backs.

“A Comedian dies,” Rorschach murmured, “And the sky sheds tears. Do these people here even know the horrible things he did while working for us? The horrors he did to keep his cover?”

“I suppose that’s what’s so funny about it,” Adrian answered quietly, frowning at the rain. 

“They didn’t call him the Comedian for nothing,” Jon said, with a quiet air of finality. “He did always say that life was a joke.”

Adrian huffed out an impatient sigh.

“Then how come no one’s laughing?”


	2. Azuma's Inequality

When Adrian opened his eyes, the other side of the bed was empty and the sliding glass door on the far side of the room was ajar. Outside, gray storm clouds swirled around and the sky opened up, pouring out tears and rain once more. Jon stood out there, leaning against the balcony rails.

Adrian felt sick. 

He climbed out of bed and found himself a pair of boxers, slid them on along with a wrinkled button up from last night. (It was Jon’s shirt, not his. Adrian knew this, and kept it on anyway.) By the time Adrian made his way out onto the balcony, Jon was standing up straight again, reading some letters from yesterday’s mail. 

Not for the first time, Adrian wished that Jon focused a little less on his work. Adrian understood, to an extent. He’d come to Jon at the young and fresh age of 20, ambitious and salivating over an opportunity to get a handle on more power. Navigation of the business world had come to bore Adrian and he wanted something bigger and better - what better place to seek thrills than the rotten underbelly of the city?

“Sleep well?” Adrian asked out of courtesy. Jon wasn’t exactly prone to intimate and personal discussions. It appeared that no matter how often they had sex and how much Jon trusted Adrian with business matters, Adrian was not a lover. He was not Laurie. 

That was okay. That was fine. Adrian could pretend that he was not in love. 

Lying to himself came easy; often, loving Jon did not.

“Well enough,” Jon answered amidst the pitter patter of rain. “We have work to do, Adrian. Shower and get dressed.” Adrian stood up, jaw locking and unlocking as he worked through several different emotional reactions, including but not limited to contempt. 

“Join me?” he finally managed, pretty lips curving into a smile for Jon’s benefit. Jon didn’t even look up. The smile was lost in the deep, dark chasm between them. 

“No.” The simple, single syllable was sharp enough to remind Adrian of who he was, who Jon was, and what they were. Not equals. Never equals.

After Jon left, Adrian began making calls, confirming meetings for the day and ensuring payments would be made so that their business could continue in full in spite of the recent crackdown of the New York branches of law enforcement. To add insult to injury, Jon told Adrian dismissively to return to make rounds with the heads of their various strongholds in the city, rather than joining Jon for the important meetings. Adrian felt crushed.

It hurt, to exist with Jon like this. But Adrian trudged on.

For what is was worth, love did not feed ambition, and Adrian was starving.


	3. Cherry Bomb

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> tw in this chapter for torture/general violence

“Fuck, stop, I’ll do anything,” the man begged. Laurie cocked her head, reaching out a gloved hand to tenderly thumb over the bleeding cut and bruising on his cheek. He had, thus far, a dislocated shoulder, three broken fingers, a sprained ankle and gash on his thigh. He was beat to hell.

“That’s not how this works,” she said with a prim smile, squeezing his bruised cheek and gaining a yelp in response. “You can’t rescue yourself, sweetie. This isn’t interrogation. It’s pure, unadulterated torture.”

“Some guys would get off on that, you know,” Dan said as he slid into the room, shutting the door behind himself. Laurie regarded him indifferently. Dan had just heard from Veidt that the funeral was over and that the three of him them had been on the receiving ends of many daggers glared.

“Don’t be gross,” Laurie answered, “I’m trying to fuck a guy up, not make porn.” She sounded particularly irritated, and looked intimidating in her customary outfit: sturdy jeans, a slick leather jacket, long hair drawn up into a sleek ponytail on top of her head. 

“Sure, sure,” Dan said, drifting to the corner and taking the only other free seat in the room. He cringed when she picked up a bat and swung for the guy’s jaw, eliciting a sickening crack that could only be attributed to breaking bones. “Was talking to Walter. He said you should have seen the faces of those pigs when Doc walked onto the scene.”

“I’m sure I can relate to whatever amount of disgust they were feeling,” Laurie replied dryly, leaning in to examine her bound victim. It appeared he had fainted from the pain. Dan wasn’t much paying attention to the man suffering her torturous ministrations.

“Is that right?”

Laurie tightened her grip on the bat and swung at a knee. Dan looked away. At this point she was just a predator playing with her food. There wasn’t much point in beating someone if they weren’t conscious to react to it. 

“That’s right,” she breathed, grasping the bat so intently that her hands shook. “Jon’s a shitty person. I mean- I mean, we all know that. None of us are good people, doing what we do. But Jon doesn’t even seem to feel anything. It’s like he’s not even human. I dumped his ass.”

Dan rose an eyebrow, and decided not to ask if that was before or after Veidt and Doc started sleeping together. 

“I visited Hollis this morning,” He said after a moment, changing the subject somewhat ham-handedly. He chuckled weakly, “He’s doing well. Keeps asking if I’ve got a girlfriend. I keep telling him that having a girlfriend is dangerous in this business..unless she’s the kind of girl who can fend for herself. ”

“He’s still pretty feisty, huh?” Laurie replied with a breathless laugh, pointedly ignoring =Dan’s not-so-subtle hints. She continued on then, as if Dan had never changed the topic, “It’s just hard to work in close quarters with him and not think about it, you know? I need a distraction from Jon.” Dan’s mood fell swiftly with her answer.

“Right,” he said. “Yeah. Maybe we should go out or something then, you know, grab some drinks.” Laurie pulled a knife out of a holster on her thigh, using it to slit the throat of the man in the chair; finally disposing of him. She glanced at Dan. Feeling embarrassed he quickly added, “You know, we can meet people. Wingman for each other.”

“I guess Walter’s not doing it for you, huh?” Laurie teased, smiling like she hadn’t just murdered someone in cold blood. Dan missed the very obvious hint at a crush he was completely unaware of.

“Walter’s not really a wingman type of guy,” Dan answered.

“No,” Laurie agreed. “I’d imagine not.”


	4. Murphy's Law

When Dan got home, Rorschach was sitting at their table, still nestled in his trench coat and work gloves, spoon-feeding himself uncooked beans straight from the can, feet up on the kitchen table. There was blood on the soles of Rorschach’s shoes, and now it was on the table too.

“Really, man?” Dan slid into the seat across the table, sighing heavily. “Blood on the table? And eating already? I was gonna make dinner tonight.” He wasn’t really that mad but it did kind of suck to have his plans for the night dashed by Rorschach’s lack of regard for any schedule but his own.

“Sorry Daniel,” Rorschach replied, setting his feet on the floor and kicking off the offending shoes. He wasn’t, but the fact that he even bothered to say so was something at least. Dan sighed and leaned on the table, forearms folded over each other.

“Talked to Laurie today. I think she’s thinking of ditching town.” He tried to sound less worried than he was. He couldn’t imagine what he would do without her; the group dynamic between him and his other associates was strained at best. Dan tried to be a good friend to Rorschach but the man could be strange and vindictive. Adrian could make for interesting company, but only when he wasn’t exercising his superiority complex to its fullest. That left Jon, but his boss and the most oddly distant person Dan had ever met.

Laurie was like Dan. Grounded, human. 

“Don’t blame her,” Rorschach said gruffly, setting the can down. “She’s a big girl, Daniel. She make her own decisions. What do you need her for? You know, I can always crack some skulls for you if that’s what you’re worried about.”

Dan shrugged helplessly.

Their phone started ringing. Dan didn’t know why Rorschach insisted they have a landline in their apartment if they both had cell phones. The chair scraped against the floor as Rorschach jumped up to answer the phone, looking kind of irritated that Dan was ignoring the phone.

“Dreiberg’s place,” Rorschach greeted the caller. For whatever reason, Rorschach didn’t like to tell people that he lived here. Dan chalked it up to another one of Rorschach’s weird habits; keeping a tight leash on personal information. It’s not like it mattered much- working for Jon graced them all with a level of protection unmatched by any other job in the city.

Rorschach was quiet for a long time, listening to whoever was on the other side of the phone. Slowly, his eyebrows drew together, mouth pressed into a thin, unhappy line. His expression was ominously grim, and finally, he hung up the phone.

Irrational panic welled up in Dan’s gut. They’d just been talking about Laurie, what if- What if she-

“Daniel.” Rorschach’s voice was gruffer than usual, like he was struggling to find a gentle way to say something that couldn’t be said kindly. “It’s Hollis. He’s…dead.”

“Oh,” Dan said slowly. Whatever worries he’d had about Laurie evaporated instantly, replaced with numb shock. “Oh.”

“We’ve got to talk to Osterman,” Rorschach said, already moving to put back on his shoes. “We’ve got to figure out what the hell happened.”


	5. Primary Succession

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> brief reference to batman here at the beginning with "the Waynes" as in THomas and Martha because Watchmen is a DC comic and there's tons of theories that Ozymandias is the later DC character, Mr. Oz, who makes appearances in Superman and stuff so. theoretically Watchmen exists in the same universe as Batman/Gotham lmao
> 
> yeah okay hav fun comment if you want

“Well if you’re having a problems with the Waynes,” Adrian said, steeling himself against the urge to shriek at the woman in front of him, “Then fix it. Talk to the underworld in Gotham, if you have to, I don’t need Thomas and Martha standing in the way of my hard work.”

“Our hard work, Adrian.”

Like a child caught with a hand in the cookie jar, Adrian looked up sharply at the source of the voice, intense expression smoothing out into one of welcome.

“Dr. Manhattan,” he said courteously, only formally addressing Jon for the sake of the underling in their presence. “Of course. I suppose I was just caught up in explanation.”

“Of course.” Jon glanced quickly at the women, still hovering awkwardly in front of Adrian’s desk. “Leave us.”

As soon as she did, Adrian got up, uncomfortable with sitting while Jon was left to stand. As if he’d been waiting for a cue, Jon sunk into the vacated seat and reached out a hand, drawing Adrian in close by his tie. Adrian felt his heart rate pick up minutely, senses heightened by the suddenly short distance between his and Jon’s faces.

For a moment: silence. Like sharks circling each other in the water, their gazes locked.

“You’re dangerously ambitious,” Jon murmured, “But I know you don’t make moves until you have the upper hand. You’re smart, maybe the smartest man to ever work for me, but trust in this: the smartest man is no more dangerous to me than the smartest piece of sewage flowing beneath this city. My empire was built before you knew the difference between love and fucking. Don’t flatter yourself for being more clever than you really are.”

Adrian was certainly shocked by the speech but not intimidated. He’d been underestimated in his life 100 times over, and the fact that his latest opponent was also his partner in several ways made no difference to him. Adrian Veidt simply did not give up on his conquests.

“Is that all you came here to say?” Adrian murmured after a moment, pink tongue flicking out to lick his lips. He couldn’t lie, it was pleasing to see Jon’s gaze catch on Adrian’s lips for a moment.

As quickly as it had been created, the tension disappeared and Jon released the tie and spun the chair to face away from Adrian, instead handling several pieces of paperwork and then setting them aside again. 

“I’m leaving for a few weeks,” he said. “I have business to do with associates internationally, important enough that I personally must attend to it. Our friends in Europe are getting nervous. The Russians are restless, particularly after the blow I dealt to Vietnam.”

“The Russians are always restless,” Adrian answered, “That’s nothing new.”

“Adrian,” Jon said, spinning the chair to face the blonde man once more, “If a starving man has been starving for a day, he won’t be desperate enough for last resorts. But if a starving man has been starving for weeks…well. There’s no knowing what he’ll do.”

Adrian’s internal thoughts turned spiteful at the childish metaphor, affronted by the very insinuation that Adrian needed simplistic figurative language to understand such a concept. Sometimes, Jon knew just exactly how to get under Adrian’s skin. 

“I understand,” Adrian said coldly after a moment. “Does this mean you’re leaving me in charge?”

“Yes.” Jon stood up, pacing for a moment before he continued, “As I’m sure your network of information has told you, Hollis Mason is dead. Normally I’d like to remain here for the PR and the aftermath, but as I said. Big things lay on the eastern horizon. I want this dealt with quickly and professionally. And I want Dan kept in line. Understand?”

As he finished, Jon glided across the carpet until he was up in Adrian’s personal space, head ducked ever so slightly to meet Adrian’s downcast eyes. 

“Understand?” Jon repeated without malice.

“Yes,” Adrian muttered sullenly, still unhappy about Jon’s patronizing attitude. 

“Good.” Without warning Jon once more grasped Adrian’s tie and pulled him into a heavy, rough kiss, two parts crushing force and one part searing heat. “Try not to miss me too much.”

As Jon left the office, Adrian was left tracing his kiss-swollen lips. He let out a mirthless chuckle.

“Bastard,” he sighed, only once he was certain that Jon was far off enough not to hear it.


	6. Lies for the Liars

The new sound system pulsed music through the club, and Adrian was feeling rather soothed. People were milling around, chattering, drinking. This was the opening night of a new club on the strip they called Desolation Row. 

It was risky business, setting up in this area; so close to bureaus and police departments; this street had been the resting place for many overambitious mobsters. Like them, Adrian was determined to set up here. However, unlike them, Adrian was intelligent, ambitious, and backed by New York’s most infamous mobster, Dr. Manhattan.

Confidence soothed Adrian well enough that he’d allowed himself to relax this evening. Standard relaxation meant two things in Adrian’s book: sex or drinking. Since Jon had been out of town for a few weeks, Adrian had resorted to the latter and was now existing in a comfortable state of inebriation; his higher mental faculties allowed him to remain collected enough to host.

“This is going too well.”

Adrian glanced to his left, eyebrow raising as Rorschach sidled up. He was fidgeting, pulling his gloves and glancing around. Adrian didn’t enjoy Rorschach’s paranoia but it had its uses; particularly in security matters.

“You think?” Adrian crossed his arms, surveying the guests around them for any signs of unrest. Adrian’s main priority was to smooth things over in case the party got too rowdy. He stood up straighter in attempt to combat slight drowsiness and fiddled with his cuff links. “You never were one to be comfortable with success. I think you ought to relax a little; We’ve earned some good karma.” 

“The kind of business we do doesn’t earn good karma, Veidt.” Rorschach drifted to the bar about a foot away, long enough to fetch two shots and bring them back to Adrian. He offered one and drank the other himself, to take the edge off. “We’re not as cruel as others, maybe. But if the death of Edward Blake has anything to do with it, we certainly don’t get any good credit for the things we do.”

Adrian snorted. “Drugs? Arms dealing? Listen, there’s worse markets out there. We don’t support human trafficking or anything. Besides, who’s to judge us? Someone else would only take our place if we stopped. Isn’t it better for the world to have Jon in control with at least some boundaries?” With that, he threw back the offered shot and shook his head at the taste.He’d earned it.

“That’s a sunny side-up way of looking at things,” Rorschach answered. He sounded like he didn’t approve. Adrian shrugged noncommittally, gestured for Rorschach to join him in a booth table. Rorschach slid into the booth after Adrian, casting a wary glance towards the swarms of people.

“I think you ought to relax,” Adrian said as he settled in the booth, leaning against the table and resting a chin in his hand. He’d was beginning to feel a little looser, maybe from the shots or from how smoothly the evening was going. “Have you given up on Dan yet? Because it’s about time you get laid. There’s got to be someone in this world who’s attracted to your gruff voice, dismal outlook, and tough mug.” 

Rorschach narrowed his eyes. The boldness of the statement betrayed Adrian’s inebriated state. Adrian was a good liar, and great at feigning sobriety. But Rorschach was a better detective.

“What’s the matter with you, Veidt?” Rorschach’s brows furrowed into a harsh frown and he cocked his head. “Something’s clearly eating at you; you tend to prefer facing the world– and your job– sober.” Predictably, Adrian bristled at the accusation, likely because it was true. Rorschach wondered which one of Adrian’s nerves was pinched. Veidt was a difficult man to get under the skin of.

“Let’s just say I’m suffering from some unforeseen complications.”

Rorschach believed that. After Adrian assuring them no chance for a meeting regarding Hollis for the next week, Daniel had spent the last two days holed up in the apartment, drinking and scarcely eating a good meal. He hadn’t shaved either and while Rorschach had never exactly smelled like spring flowers, even he was beginning to detest the smell around Dan.

“Hollis Mason,” Rorschach muttered with an assured nod, “Yes. Does throw things off, doesn’t it?”

“Better not to talk about that here,” Adrian said shortly, but the way his facial expression twitched, the way his voice caught minutely on the words…Adrian was a good liar. But Rorschach was a better detective. There was something there, with the murder of Hollis Mason.

Rorschach was willing to bet that Veidt’s hang up on Mason was more than met the eye.

The fact was, Hollis Mason had meant the most to Daniel by far. Formerly the mantle of Nite Owl had belonged to and been founded by Hollis Mason. He’d been around since the beginning, had been a crucial player in Jon’s bid for control of the city’s criminal world. As a result, he’d been a major figurehead in Jon’s early rise to power and continued to work for him even as Dr. Manhattan was born. 

Dan entered the story much later on as a troubled teenager, with an abusive alcoholic dad and poor beaten mother. Hollis had never been quite as good at being a bad guy as most other criminals and took pity on a young Dan Dreiberg: He’d given the boy a job in his club, and kept him on as a protege until Hollis had decided it was time to retire.

Thus, the mantle of Nite Owl was quietly passed on to Dan. Hollis’ club The Nest was quietly reopened as Archimedes, and Dan suddenly found himself having a seat at the adult’s table in meetings with Doctor Manhattan himself.

This and this alone was the reason Dan was so attached to Hollis and was so intently stricken by the man’s death. The rest of them - Laurie, Adrian, and Rorschach - had no such attachment. To them, Mason was merely an old wardog foolish enough to believe he’d be safe in retirement. 

“Can’t be good for moral,” Rorschach tried again.

“We’ll talk about it later,” Adrian snapped, confirming Rorschach’s suspicions that there was more going on here than what was on the surface.

It seemed he had some investigating to do.


	7. Out of the Frying Pan

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this whole chapter sort of has a film of misogyny over it w a little homophobic sounding sentiment at the end just a warning

On his fourth day of mourning, Dan got up, showered and shaved. He had breakfast, put on a suit and tie. Then he went to the funeral. It was a who’s who of friendly neighborhood folks and elderly mobsters. There was a clear division amongst remnants of Hollis’ first life and his second life. 

After the funeral, Dan visited his club Archimedes for the first time in days, in the early hours before opening while performers rehearsed. The live performances were, admittedly, old fashioned, but they were a stable of what made the club special and more importantly, they were part of how Hollis had run the place.

He was beginning to feel himself falling back into a void of unfocused attention, his ability to function running thin, when the doors burst open and Laurie walked in. 

She walked slowly over to the table where Dan was sitting– hand over his mouth and and gaze somewhere off in the corner. He only perked up when she sat across from him with a frown, and the two of them stared at each other for a long time before either one spoke. 

“Dan,” she said after a second, ponytail softly swishing as she tilted her head to the side. “I’m sorry I couldn’t make it to Hollis’ funeral.”

“In truth, I’d figured you had already left town.”

She looked faintly guilty, but not enough for Dan to forgive her. 

“Listen, Dan, this isn’t exactly an easy business to get out of. I hate to be like this, but what happened to Hollis is a perfect example. When he retired, he stayed put and kept his old contacts…look at what happened to him.”

Dan, not for the first time in the passing week, felt numb. He hadn’t expected Laurie of all people to act like this, not when Dan needed someone. For God’s sake, someone had died. Hollis had rescued Daniel from an idle life and imperfect parents. The man had been the only real father Dan had ever known and now he was gone. 

That numb feeling in his chest seemed to spin itself into quiet, calm, simmering rage. 

“Dan?”

Laurie’s soft voice broke Dan’s brief drift into outer space, drew his gaze away from the table and back to her soft face. 

“Stay here,” he said after a moment, rage shattering into pieces of desperation. “I know things are painful with Jon, but he’s in Europe. He probably will be for another few months. And Adrian, he’s got big plans. Maybe if he succeeded…Jon wouldn’t be a problem anymore.”

Laurie looked decidedly less sympathetic, expression shifting to irritation as she rolled her eyes and looked away from Dan.

“I’m going to California,” she said definitively. “I can be closer to my mother, I can have a fresh start. This is what I want, Dan, and if you really care about me, you’ll let me go without a fight.”

“Let you go?” Dan couldn’t keep the frustration from leaking into his voice. “What you want? Laurie, you hate your mom, and you love the city. This can’t be what you want. Stay, here in the city. With me! I know it kind of sucks to be in such close quarters to your ex, but maybe...maybe I could branch off on my own. We don’t need him.”

“Is that all you think about?” she snapped. “Is that all you see me as? Jon’s ex? The girl you love? Fucking newsflash, Dan– I’m not your girl! I never was.”

Dan stared at her. This was not the answer he’d expected; not only had she very pointedly addressed the fact that he was in love with her (something he’d believed her to have no knowledge of,) but she’d also acted as if Dan’s reaction was rude and unwanted. 

“I–” Dan began, but he stopped abruptly for lack of anything to say. What could he say? In truth, the answer was…yes. He’d been interested in Laurie as long as he could remember, and that had been blocked for so long by Jon’s involvement. It was hard not to think of her as Jon’s ex, now that that particular obstacle was out of the way. “Laurie, please.”

Laurie shook her head, stood up and gathered her things up, searing gaze turned on Dan one last time.

“You’re so fucking blind,” she muttered sourly, “You know that, right? You’re too busy being so fucking deluded over me and over this masculinity contest mobster bullshit way of life that you don’t even– you don’t even see what’s right in front of you– God, I feel so bad for Rorschach, the poor bastard–”

“What, Walter? What the fuck are you even talking about? It’s like you’re making shit up!” Dan’s voice rose in tandem with hers, both of them getting heated and upset.

“Use some of those brain cells,” Laurie shouted at him, “Think for a fucking second, Dan, really think. There’s three people Rorschach is loyal too. Number one, Jon– he signs Rorschach’s paychecks. Number two– Adrian. Adrian’s fucking the guy who signs Rorschach’s paychecks. Number three– you. You sure as hell don’t pay him. So what the fuck is so special about you?”

“What are you even talking about, it’s– He’s not like that, Laurie, I would have noticed– We live together! He leeches off me for food and a place to crash. I help him, he helps me, what you’re trying to get at, it’s just…it’s not possible.”

Laurie clenched her jaw, shook her head. “This is why we could never be together, Dan. You just, you just don’t think. I’m leaving now. Don’t you dare try to find me.”


	8. No Mercy for the Mercenaries

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> lowkey a filler chapter but important in order for the plot/resolution to coalesce

Getting a look at the crime scene had been ridiculously easy. 

In spite of it being a high profile case, the murder of Hollis Mason had not garnered nearly as much police attention as it ought to have purely out of spite from the local precinct. Cops were intensely loyal beings, and knowing that Mason had once been an officer in enemy ranks?

Old prejudices die hard.

By the time Rorschach had made his way to Mason’s car garage, where the deed had been done, the crime scene had long since been abandoned and the tape long since torn down. A mere 20 minutes of careful observation and searching was enough to tell Rorschach everything he needed to know.

His investigation of the garage had lead him to three conclusions:

First, there had been more than one perpetrator.

Second, the murder had been rash and rushed - likely done on a whim and without much planning in regards to cleaning up.

Each of these conclusions were supported by the collected data on the crime. Coroner’s reports had shown bruising and lesions around Hollis’ wrists in the shape of fingers; the scattered, messy state of the garage suggested poor planning; the overall fact that Hollis had been overpowered in the struggle suggested multiple perps. Hollis had once been a dangerous man, and even in his old age, the man retained his fitness and ability to hold his own.

Rorschach remembered many visits with the old man, dragged along by Daniel. Hollis had maintained his physical condition, even at the ripening age of 55. Rorschach considered it unlikely that Mason could have been overpowered in a one on one confrontation. 

Third, and this one was the biggest leap- the death of Hollis Mason had been carried out by professionals. 

It was difficult to prove this, given that professionals would have been much more careful about leaving behind so much evidence of a struggle, and leaving a body to be found in the first place, but Rorschach could see no other reasonable conclusion. Hollis was well-liked and protected by Dan; no person could reasonably pursue such a death unless motivated by money.

In light of this line of thinking, Rorschach had returned to his familiar underworld, frequenting the bars of their dark city populated by mercs for hire.

The useful thing about being the lackey of Jon Osterman was that these days, Rorschach’s fists carried a lot more clout before he started swinging them. It only took a few broken fingers, and a few bloody noses to squeeze the truth out of a bartender and a rather cowardly gun for hire: word on the street was, Adrian Veidt had been sniffing around the mercenary wheelhouses looking to hire– that in itself was fairly normal, but the bartender offered a vital piece of information: Adrian specifically had been seeking out hires that were lauded for their secrecy and unquestioning devotion to the job.

That achieved, Rorschach was able to suckerpunch his way to a list of names; and having done that, he set out to get the full story.


	9. The Beginning of the End

When Rorschach returned to the apartment, he shuffled in holding tightly to the folder in his hands, containing the documents proving that not only had Adrian ordered a hit on Daniel, but also containing the miscommunication that had lead to Hollis Mason’s untimely death.

“Daniel?” Rorschach called out, stepping into the kitchen and flipping on the light. 

Eventually Dan drifted into the doorway of the kitchen, leaning against the door frame and staring hard at Rorschach as he set the file down on the counter to look through it.

“There you are,” Rorschach said, “Listen, Daniel, there’s been some disturbing developments.”

“You don’t know the half of it.”

Rorschach paused what he was doing– flipping through the pages of the manila folder– and set it back down on the counter in favor of turning around to look at Dan. He cocked his head to the side– he wasn’t certain as to what Dan was referring to, but he knew it couldn’t be the same as what Rorschach was talking about because Dan was too calm.

“Walter,” Dan said in a low, dangerous voice. “I’m only going to ask once.”

Rorschach’s shoulders tensed. He was familiar with this tone; it was the voice Dan used for business to assert dominance and to intimidate competition or underlings. Rorschach was neither, so he couldn’t help feeling somewhat attacked at being on the receiving end of this tone.

“Then spit it out,” Rorschach returned impatiently.

Dan crossed his arms and then the threshold, inching closer to Rorschach less like a friend and more, much more, like a predator. His eyes were fixed on Walter’s face.

“How long have you been in love with me.”

Dan said it flatly, more like a statement then a question, but regardless Rorschach’s heart jumped his throat and then promptly sunk deep into his knotted stomach.

“I don’t– I’m not–”

Dan held up a hand, silencing Rorschach. For a moment, Rorschach felt real, visceral fear. He had few things in this world: the clothes on his back, the money in his bank account and the friend before him. Rorschach was unprepared to learn how to survive short of one of those three things...especially if that one was Daniel.

“Walter,” Dan began, “I’m going to preface this with two things. First off, I’m in a shitty fucking mood, and could use a distraction. Secondly, if you really, really want to keep up your charade, then all you have to is tell me to stop.”

And then, like something out of a fucking movie or perhaps Walter’s dreams, Dan leaned forward, roughly grasping Rorschach’s face, and kissed him with the hallmarks of a searing, sultry kiss.

After that absolution, that validation of Rorschach’s quiet attraction from afar, it became easy. It was easy to fall back against the wall when pushed by Dan, it was easy to press his tongue into Dan’s mouth to return heated kisses, and it was easy to fall back into bed and to let himself touch and be touched.

Walter had been raised to not question a good thing when it came about. He wasn’t going to press his luck by bothering Dan about what exactly this was.

All in all, Dan was a good fuck, and when they finished, Rorschach passed out easily in bed. But he didn’t forget what he had learned earlier that night while investigating. Certainly not. The next morning at the kitchen table, while Dan munched on toast and Rorschach slowly ate away at an apple, he dropped the file in front of Dan.

“Here’s the long and the short of it, Dreiberg,” Rorschach said, back to his casual business tone with Dan. “Veidt wants you dead for some reason. Hired some guys to do it for their reputation of absolute secrecy and willingness to take any job, but they bungled the whole thing. Killed the wrong Nite Owl. Now Hollis is dead, you’re alive, and Adrian’s thrown off. If you ask me, now’s the time to go get the bastard.”

Dan flipped through the folder, eyed the documents, and finished his toast. Finally, he glanced up, nodding slowly and thoughtfully.

“I never liked Adrian,” he said after a moment, surprisingly devoid of any sort of rage or anger. Privately, Rorschach decided that sometime within the next few hours, they had a storm coming. 

“Me neither.”

“Good,” Dan said. “You’re right. Let’s fucking destroy him.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> only two more chapters to go Wow


End file.
